All He Could
by spockapella
Summary: My take on how it must've been for Jaime to be moded. K to be safe Bluepulse implied


_A/N: This is my interpretation of what it must've been like for Jaime to be on mode. Bold is the Scarab's voice, Italics Jaime, and in paranthesis is the Reach ambassedor. _

_Disclaimer: I don't own Young Justice, DC Comics, or any of it's characters. _

* * *

All Jaime could do was scream.

He screamed as the Reach forced him to tell Bart he was free. He screamed as he came home to his family, telling them lies about how he was happy and safe. He screamed as they twisted his face into shallow, soulless smiles.

He'd failed. He'd been turned. He was completely powerless, and forced to watch it all unfold. It was like one of those nightmares where he couldn't move, couldn't talk, couldn't even breathe. His body was a prison, a cage, holding him back.

The scarab remained silent. Jaime could barely wonder through his incoherent anguish if the scarab had disappeared in the process of going on-mode until it spoke.

**I am sorry, Jaime Reyes.**

...

All Jaime could do was try.

He channeled all his mental energy into getting his body back. Used all his willpower to twitch his fingers, to pull at the corners of his lips, to hold himself back as his body pressed on. It was all in vain, no matter how much he strained himself, he couldn't summon his own bat of an eyelid, nor the slightest hiss of his voice.

(It is of little use,) the Ambassador's voice echoed in his mind. (You might as well give up now.)

_Not a chance, _Jaime thought scathingly.

(Yes, that's what they all say in the beginning,) the Ambassador said passively. (But I assure you, you'll change your mind soon enough.)

...

All Jaime could do was beg.

_No please_, he wept. _Don't hurt him. Please don't hurt him._

(The information the Impulse possesses is a threat to our plans, Jaime Reyes,) The Ambassador said, as the auburn haired boy smiled and stood confidently in Jaime's line of vision.

**Killing the Impulse is not a favorable strategy. His knowledge of the future, although incriminating, could be useful information to us. **

(Why are you questioning my orders, Scarab?)

**I am merely pointing out a flaw of logic in your strategy. The Impulse could be put to greater use to us if kept alive.**

Jaime looked at Bart and desperately wished he could tell him to run. To leave, to get away from him before he was forced to do something terrible.

_He'll tell you everything. All you want to know about the future. Just don't hurt him. Please don't hurt Bart, _Jaime pleaded.

(Your affections for the boy mean little, but if what you say is true, then I suppose his capture would be of more use to the Reach then having him eliminated. Take him along with the others.)

Blue Beetle smashed the crystal key in the back of Bart's head.

...

All Jaime could do was hope.

Hope someone knew it wasn't really him praising the reach. Hope that he could somehow be saved him from their hold. Hope he wouldn't be forced to do anymore damage than he'd already done.

He thought of Bart often. How he'd come from a desolate future, surrounded by pain, and darkness. Bart had grown up in a world that most had considered lost and un-savable. But that hadn't stopped Bart from trying. He'd had found a way out, a way to come and save the future, by doing the impossible and changing the past. The same Bart, even after all horrors he'd seen Jaime do in the future, still believed in him. Tried to save him, rather than kill him, like Jaime knew he should have. Bart hadn't given up hope, so how could Jaime?

(Humans and their hope,) the Ambassador sneered. (Never really gets you anywhere, does it Jaime Reyes?)

...

Blinding white light seared into his skull, piercing through his eye lids. There was a flash of scorching heat running up his body and through his temperature-controlled armor. He felt himself crying out in agony, but couldn't hear it. He stumbled backwards, gripping his temples, pain rushing through his head and down through his body in a wave of torching heat.

His vision was foggy, his head dazed as he looked up- Wait. _He_ looked up. _Jaime_, of his own accord. His heart began to race. Did it work? Was he really free?

His armor peeled off his body and he reached up to feel his cotton sweater instinctively. Jaime stared at his hands, unfurling and recoiling his fingers. He felt himself begin to tremble. Was he really... His heart picked up pace and he looked up.

Bart and Zantana were both watching him intently. Zantana looked exhausted, the spell obviously had drained her, and a wash of gratitude flooded through Jaime's body. _He was free_. He was so choked up he was fairly sure his voice came out a rasp as he thanked her, embracing her tightly. Relishing the fact he _could_ embrace her, and _could_ thank her.

He spoke with the scarab, who buzzed contentedly on his back. Their freedom from the Reach was exhilarating for the both of them, and Jaime couldn't stop smiling.

...

Bart's eyes were lively as they watched Jaime the next day. The light poured through the window and hit Bart just right, causing the red in his hair to gleam brilliantly, and his fair skin glow. Jaime reached out and pushed a flyaway lock out of Bart's face.

"Your hair is messy," he commented, ignoring his algebra homework for a moment.

"Speedster," Bart murmured, eyes closed under Jaime's touch. "I rock the windswept look."

"Bart?"

"Mm?"  
"Thank you for- I know I did some awful stuff and hurt you and-" Jaime stammered. "Thank you for not giving up on me. Even after all that."

Bart grinned at him impishly. "As it turns out, _her-man-oh_-"

The speedster leaned forward and touched his forehead to Jaime's.

"-I just can't seem to let you go."


End file.
